00. Prologue.

  The ground trembles, and Hector feels his instincts screaming for help. With his face pressed to the earth, his throat locks tight, his limbs numb and useless. At last, he understands—he has lost all control over himself. He struggles to reclaim it, but only one force commands him now: Fear.

  It creeps up from his toes, winding through his legs, climbing his spine until the hairs on his neck. Fear that pins his eyes wide open, that glues his body to the ground.

  And it is with fear that he sees the shadow before him. A black stain that seizes a girl’s body, lifting her into the air. It spreads over her pale arms, smothers her curved torso, slithers along the edges of her round face, and tangles itself in her fiery red curls.

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  Hector feels the ground grow light and the air turn heavy. Day becomes night. Life twists into death.

  His body lies broken, and something warm seeps from his gut, soaking his clothes. Blood. With the wounds he’s taken, this much was inevitable.

  “The ritual is complete.”

  What does that mean? Death? And the red-haired girl—what fate awaits her?

  The salt of tears coats his lips. He had sworn to himself he would never again feel pain like this.

  Is there nothing left to do? Nothing but surrender? To endure the agony and admit defeat?

  The black shadow swallows her blue eyes, going into her white irises. A guttural noise echoes—from nowhere and everywhere at once.

  The time has come.

  “The ritual is complete.”

  *